


D for Darcy

by sweetly_disposed



Series: Alphabetical [4]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Flirty Niall, Fluff, M/M, Sassy Louis, marriage proposals, misunderstood harry, pride and prejudice au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-08
Updated: 2015-10-08
Packaged: 2018-04-25 12:17:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4960297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetly_disposed/pseuds/sweetly_disposed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pride and Prejudice AU, starring Louis as a slightly unorthadox Lizzie, and Harry as the misunderstood Mr. Darcy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	D for Darcy

 

 

"You said what to him?!"

Louis met the eyes of his father defiantly, tilting his chin up. "I told him, perfectly politely I might add, that his proposal of marriage was an unwelcome one. I advised him that if he'd wanted to court me in the first place he should have made it clear that he wanted to do so, instead of glaring at me whenever we were in company together and making me think he hated me.' He paused, eyes darting to the left where his mother sat in her armchair, fanning herself furiously. He lowered his voice, dropping his eyes to the carpeted floor of the living room. "Er, then I told him he was an arrogant, pompous arse with more money than sense."

His mother shrieked, bolting to her feet in outrage. Simultaneously, his father muttered 'heaven preserve us' and sank into his chair, pulling out his handkerchief from his jacket pocket and dabbing at his forehead.

"Louis Tomlinson!" Mother smacked at Louis' shoulder with her fan. "How could you say such a thing to Mr Styles?! The man proposed marriage to you and you turned him down? And more than that, you insulted him! He is a gentleman of the highest class, and he was good enough to propose to you and you threw it back in his face!"

"Because he is an idiot, mother," Louis replied patiently, ignoring he cry of anguish. "He has no respect for me whatsoever. And anyway, he insulted me first! He told me to my face that I was of a considerably lower class and despite the fact that I was poor and uncouth with very little social standing, he would be gracious enough to marry me anyway!" Louis scoffed, folding his arms across his chest. "If he thinks I'm going to consider an offer of any kind from him after that, he's sorely mistaken."

"I must be dreaming," his mother collapsed back into her chair. "How could you, Louis? It's Mr Styles! He easily has ten thousand a year, and yet you denied him of your hand because he made a passing comment about your status? You...you're doing this deliberately, aren't you? To vex your poor mother! You have no thought for my poor nerves!"

Louis' mouth dropped open. "Father!" he protested.

"Louis," Father replied in a rather disapproving tone. "I understand why you may have been..shall we say...taken aback, by Mr Styles' proposal, and I understand your ill feeling towards him. However, you mother and I have done our best to raise you to be respectful to everyone. No matter how you feel about him, there was certainly no need to call Mr Styles a...what was it?"

"Arse," Niall supplied helpfully from where he sat at the pianoforte. "He called him a "pompous arse'."

"Yes, thank you, brother dear," Louis hissed, glaring at him. Niall poked his tongue out.

"Oh lord, what if he tells people?! We'll be the laughing stock of the town. We shall never be able to show our faces at another ball again- we'll be ruined!" Mother descended into noisy sobs, clutching her handkerchief to her mouth.

Louis rolled his eyes hugely. "Look, I'm sorry if I have caused upset. I try my hardest to be polite when in the company of others, but you know what I'm like, don't you?" he implored his father. "I've never been any good at holding my tongue, and he really was terribly rude to me. If it helps to smooth things over, I shall miss the next ball Mr Payne decides to hold. That way all awkwardness can be avoided."

"Certainly not!" Mother scolded, pink cheeked and watery eyed. "You shall attend, and you will go with your head held high, my boy. And when you come across Mr Styles, which you will, I'm sure, you will apologise to him and speak with him in a civil and polite manner."

"But, Mother!"

"No buts!" She held up a stern finger. "You must right your wrongs, Louis. We have always taught you that."

"But he was just as much in the wrong as I!"

Any further protests fell on deaf ears though- his mother had apparently had too much anguish for one day, and she would hear no more. She bustled off in search of Zayn, leaving Louis opening and closing his mouth like a goldfish in her wake.

 

*****

 

Louis loved a good ball as much as the next person.

However, when the fun of the evening was interrupted by a certain presence, Louis' inclination to take part in dances and polite conversation was rapidly dwindling. Mr Styles didn't actually interrupt him, per se, but it was his continual glaring in Louis' direction that was off-putting. He kept throwing off Louis' concentration, so much so that on one occasion when Louis was taking part in a group dance he caught sight of Mr Styles staring at him and promptly missed his cue, stepping on the foot of one poor girl to his left. He'd apologised profusely and excused himself after the dance had finished, red-faced and fuming.

Once he'd acquired a drink, a small crystal glass filled with something light and bubbly, he went in search of his family. To his dismay, though, they all seemed to be otherwise engaged. Zayn was deep in conversation with Mr Payne, heads huddled together by one of the large windows. Niall was to be found in the middle of a group of soldiers, blond hair stark against the red of their coats. Mother was busy telling everyone who would listen in a loud voice how she expected a proposal from Mr Payne soon, and how delighted she would be to gain him as a son-in-law and what a perfect match for Zayn he was. As for Father, well, he was nowhere to be seen at all.

Louis supposed he might have gone for a smoke, somewhere hidden from the beady eyes of Mother. Draining his glass in one go, he set it down on a nearby table and then made his way out of the ballroom and into the hall, intent on heading for gardens to see if he could find him there.

No more than ten paces down the marble hallway, he was stopped by a voice behind him.

"Mr Tomlinson."

Louis bit the inside of his cheek. Slowing, keeping his expression carefully blank, he turned on his heel.

"Mr Styles," he said shortly. They bowed.

"I trust you're enjoying the evening," Mr Styles said awkwardly, arms rigid by his side. Louis would be lying if he said he wasn't enjoying how uncomfortable he looked.

"Mr Payne hosts a good ball," Louis inclined his head to show his approval. He tugged his lower lip into his mouth, not missing the way Mr Styles' eyes zeroed in on his mouth. "Though I am not afraid to admit that it is somewhat difficult to enjoy oneself when one is being continually stared at from across the room."

Mr Styles didn't look phased at all by Louis' comment. If anything, he continued as if Louis hadn't spoken at all. "I hoped I might find you alone at some point this evening to speak with you."

Louis groaned internally. He scuffed his shoe on the tiled floor beneath him and then made himself stop, remembering what Mother told him about fidgeting. "Well, it certainly seems that things have gone the way you'd hoped, haven't they?"

"Mr Tomlinson," Mr Styles sounded impatient. Louis blinked, a little startled. "I have been meaning to talk you because I wish to apologise for my appalling behaviour when we last spoke."

Louis snapped his mouth shut. Surely he'd misheard him. "Excuse me?"

Mr Styles cleared his throat. "Last time you and I spoke I was unforgivably rude, and presumptuous, and rather arrogant. I thought your feelings for me mirrored mine towards you, and it is clear to me now that I was wrong. For that I apologise."

"Oh," Louis said. His voice sounded soft to his own ears. He swallowed, clearing his throat. "Well, I...yes, you were everything you have just said there. But I too was rude. I should not have called you the things I did. For that I am sorry, too."

"Accepted," Mr Styles said, tilting his head in acknowledgement. "I feel I must tell you that you have absolutely no obligations towards me in any way possible. There is no need to pity or humour my feelings for you, or even to tolerate them. I understand fully that they are not reciprocated, you have made that perfectly clear. It is done."

Louis nearly choked on his tongue when he tried to swallow again, his throat horribly dry. "Your...feelings? As in, present tense?"

Mr Styles looked at him as if he'd lost his mind. Louis was beginning to think he might have done. "Yes. Of course. My proposal, however terrible, was not one based on thoughtless or superficial feelings. My feelings for you remain unchanged, and so I ask you, for the moment, to allow me the time and space to attempt to get over them."

Louis could do little more than simply stand where he was, openly gaping at the man in front of him. His earlier certainties that Mr Styles was selfish and arrogant began to waver, leaving in their places tinges of something soft and close to affection. It was pleasant and welcome surprise from the overwhelming dislike he'd felt for him the last time they'd spoken. Louis didn't like to think he was wrong about, well, anything, but on this occasion, he thought he might have been. Guilt settled in his stomach as he remembered how nasty he'd been about the polite, respectful man in front of him.

"Well," he said. "I think it would be accurate to say that there has been some serious communication issues between us." He tried to subtly pull at his collar, feeling a little hot in the pressed starch of his shirt. "It appears I have been too hasty in thinking so ill of you."

Mr Styles' didn't argue that. He said, "And there is no denying that I need to improve my skills when it comes to grand declarations of love and making my affections clear."

Louis felt his eyes bug a little at the 'L' word. Mr Styles held his gaze, the green of his eyes boring into Louis' as if he was trying to see into his very soul. Louis tried to hold the contact, but it became a little too intense and he averted his eyes, pink in the cheeks.

"Mr Tomlinson," he heard Mr Styles say, an air of finality in his voice. "Thank you for your time. I'm sure our paths will cross again sometime in the future."

He bowed low, met Louis' eyes a final time, and then turned to walk away.

Where his next words came from, Louis would never know. Before he could think better of it, he'd stepped forward and placed a hand on Mr Styles' elbow.

"Wait," he said.

Mr Styles slowly turned back to face him, eyes glued to where Louis' fingers touched the material of his jacket. He raised his eyes, and when Louis looked into them he thought he saw the faintest flashes of hope glinting there.

"Forgive me for being so forward. But...perhaps you and I might share the next dance together?" Louis asked. Mother would kill him if she knew he'd been the one to ask a gentleman to dance, but then again, Louis had never been one to do things the proper way.

Mr Styles was nodding before Louis had even finished his sentence. He took a step towards him, his other hand lifting to cover Louis' fingers still resting on his arm. "It would be an honour," he said sincerely.

Louis looked up at him. He let his eyes wander down the bridge of Mr Styles' nose to the curve of his upper lip. His own lips felt chapped and dry, so he poked his tongue out to wet them almost without thinking about it. At the strangled noise Mr Styles made in his throat, though, Louis moved away full, all too conscious of what people would say if they were caught so close to each other in a secluded spot.

"Well, then," Louis tugged on the hem of his jacket and straightened his lapels. "Shall we?"

 

*****

 

There was a hush over the ballroom when he took his place in line with Mr Styles positioned across for him. He heard a few mutters before the music began and saw a few people pointing at him, no doubt wondering how he had managed to persuade Mr Styles, a man who rarely danced at these sort of parties, to willingly participate. If only they knew, Louis thought, thinking back to the proposal. The music began, a light, jolly tune, and the dancers followed. He and Mr Styles linked arms, dancing in a circle, and then they broke off to dance with others for a moment.

When they came back together again. Mr Styles was frowning, brow heavy over his eyes even though he was having no trouble in keeping up with the dance. Louis' heart sank a little when the thought crossed his mind that it looked like he'd gladly be anywhere else but here with Louis.

"Are you not enjoying the dance, sir?" he asked as they stood next to each other in line.

"On the contrary," Mr Styles answered. "This dance is one of my favourites."

"Well, maybe you ought to tell your face that," Louis retorted without thinking, and then winced at his rudeness. It wouldn't do to insult him again when it was just beginning to look like they were getting along.

Louis expected him to throw a scathing comment his way and leave him there, but, unexpectedly, Mr Styles relaxed a little and actually shared a small smile with Louis. "That tongue of yours," he said as they continued the dance. "I shouldn't like it, but I do. It's part of the reason I fell-" he broke off there, expression shuttering. Louis gulped, looking away.

More boldly than he felt, Louis took his hand, leading them into the last section of the dance. When it finished, they parted, bowing to each other along with the rest of the couples around them. Then Mr Styles took his hand and pressed a chaste kiss to his knuckles, eyes never leaving Louis' as they did so.

Louis stomach lurched, something low and hot pulling at the bottom of it. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his mother watching them, mouth agape.

"Thank you, Mr Tomlinson," Mr Styles said lowly.

"You're very welcome. Perhaps we might do it again. Sometime soon?"

"I would like that very much." They bowed again and separated, albeit reluctantly on Louis' behalf.

Louis found Zayn still standing by the window, this time alone. When he'd stopped next to him Louis made no secret of looking over the heads of the crowd for Mr Styles. He found him at the left of the room speaking with Mr Payne.

"Very impressive," Zayn said, low enough so that only Louis could hear him. "You two made a good show of pretending you get alone. It was quite convincing, actually."

"He apologised," Louis said in a hushed whisper. "He caught me alone and said that his feelings were me hadn't changed and that he was sorry he'd ruined it between us."

Zayn's eyes widened. "He did? Goodness." They both looked over at the two men across the room. "That's...unexpected."

"Tell me about it. Zee, I think I might have been very wrong about him. Back there he was kind, and understanding. He couldn't apologise enough, and he wasn't mean at all. He was kind of sweet actually. I didn't know he had a side to him like that."

"Regretting your rejection of him, are you?" Zayn had said that jest, just teasing, but when Louis didn't reply his mouth fell open. "Lou!" he said urgently.

"Shh!" Louis snapped. "Do you want Mother to hear you?"

"You regret turning him down, don't you?"

Louis turned his head to look out of the window. He pushed a hand through his hair, not caring if he mussed it up. "I...I don't know! Maybe? Yes. I might."

"Oh, Lou. Only you could fall in love with the man you declared to be an arse not one week ago! Wait 'til you tell Mother, she'll be beside herself."

"He's so different now. How could I have been so wrong about someone?"

"Hm. I've known all along that there's something between you."

Louis snorted indelicately. "Of course you did," he deadpanned. "But, brother dear, this isn't all about me- what of you and Mr Payne? Do I hear church bells?"

That was enough to stop Zayn's teasing. He ducked his head, trying and failing to keep his bashful smile hidden. "I think he will propose by the end of next week. He keeps dropping hints that way."

"Zee!" Louis squealed. He looked around quickly, checking no one had heard him. "I'm so happy for you!"

"Me, too," Zayn grinned. "I didn't think it was possible to be this happy. Oh! You and I could have a double wedding, just imagine!"

Louis made a derisive noise, but his heart clenched at the thought. "Mother would love that- marry off two of us at the same time. Then all she'd have to worry about would be Niall."

Over Zayn's shoulder, Louis saw Mr Styles and Mr Payne heading over to them, and he nudged Zayn to make him aware. Zayn stood to his full height, lifting a hand to make sure his carefully styled hair was still in place.

All four of them bowed in greeting, and when they'd straightened Mr Payne beamed and said, "Mr and Mr Tomlinson, Mr Styles and I would love to take the next dance with you."

Zayn glanced at Louis out of the corner of his eye, raising an eyebrow fractionally in a knowing way.

"Of course," Louis accepted. "We'd be delighted."

They made their way to the floor. The dance was a slower one this time, one that required closer body contact. Louis slid into Mr Styles' arms, clasping his hand, and then looked up through his eyelashes.

Mr Styles was looking down at him with barely concealed fondness, so profound and intense that it nearly took Louis' breath away. All he could do was let himself be lead around the floor, trying not the tremble apart in the strong grip holding him firmly against Mr Styles' body.

Halfway through the dance, Mr Styles opened his mouth to speak. "So, Mr Tomlinson," he said conversationally. "Does my face look like I'm enjoying myself this time?"

Louis turned bright red in mortification. He winced and peeked up to see Mr Styles' smiling face. "I, er, I think you pass the test."

Mr Styles grinned widely. "Good," was all he said.

 

*****

 

"I asked Mr Styles to marry me."

Mother actually dropped her teacup in shock. Brown liquid spattered over the rug and on the hem of her skirts. She spluttered her mouth of tea everywhere and fumbled for her handkerchief, staring at Louis in horror. "You did what?!"

Father had frozen in his seat, quill still poised over his letter. A drop of dark blue ink fell from the quill to the parchment underneath it. The ink pooled, making a mess of his work.

Louis took a breath. "Mr Styles. I asked him yesterday if his proposal still stood, and he told me it did. So, I asked him."

In truth, it had been a little more romantic than how Louis was telling it now. He'd been walking hand in hand with Mr Styles (or Harry, as he'd insisted) in his gardens, the two of them taking a stroll in the afternoon sun. Louis had looked at him, dark hair shining in the light, cheeks pink from the cool breeze rustling through the trees, and asked himself what was stopping him. The answer had been, simply, nothing.

Harry had been surprised, and then elated, and then ecstatic, kissing Louis soundly where they stood with little thought of who might see them. Then, without waiting any longer he'd pulled Louis back into the house, leading him to his desk in his study. He'd produced the ring he'd kept from their last attempt at getting engaged and slid it onto Louis; finger, eyes bright and smile blinding.

Louis waved his hand at his parents now, showing off the ring. "Harry's going to announce it when he's next in town."

"But-but," his mother fanned herself so furiously her hand was little more than a blur. "He didn't ask your fathers' permission!"

"I asked him, remember?"

"You asked and gentleman for his hand in marriage! Oh this is all so backwards, my poor nerves can't take it!"

Louis tried to tamper down the flare of irritation in his chest. 'Aren't you at least a little happy for your oldest child?"

That made her stop, though she still sniffled a little when she spoke. "Of course I am, dear. It's just the way you drop these things on me with no warning. My nerves!"

Louis tried so hard to stop himself from rolling his eyes that his left eye accidentally twitched. "Well, just think of it this way. Now Mr Payne has proposed to Zayn, there's twice as much to plan. Perhaps even a double wedding. In the spring?"

He could almost hear the cogs turning in her head. She stilled, as if realising some great opportunity.

"You're right," she breathed. "We may marry the both of you off on the same day! Imagine what an occasion it will be! Oh, we will be the talk of the town! A double spring wedding, how lovely, don't you think, Mr Tomlinson?"

"Quite, my dear."

"Zayn! Zayn!" she almost flew from the room, cries of 'boys, come quickly!' echoing down the hall.

Father came to stand by Louis, resting a hand on his shoulder. "My boy, when you are married to Mr Styles, please ensure you come to visit often. Until Niall is married I fear your mother will be twice as...challenging."

"I will."

"Louis," he hesitated. "You've always been a bit of a rogue one, never one to do things normally. You did change your mind rather quickly, though. Mr Styles...is he good to you? Does he make you happy?"

Louis nodded, unable to stop the smile spreading across his face. "Yes. He does. I love him."

Father patted his shoulder before moving away. "Then that's all your mother and I could ever have hoped for. For what it's worth, you have my full blessing."

"Thank you, Father."

Louis reached for his ring, twisting it around his finger. He was still getting used its weight, the unfamiliarity of something new that wasn't there before. The thought that it would seen be replaced with a wedding ring made anticipation and excitement curl in his stomach.

Second chances were wonderful things.


End file.
